PR 2825 

|.fl2 P52 
Copy 1 



[I*rice 3 Oents. 




THE 



me:rchant of yenice. 



BY 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 



NEW YOBK: 

AMEEICAN BOOK EXCHANGE, 

Tbibune Building. 

1880. 



^ 



'J ,AzAst. 



-X 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

The Duke of Venice. LATmcEiiOT Gobbo, , 

mu T^r,^.^^ «™ TiT^^x^r,^^ ) suitors the clown, servant to Shylock. 

?teS^^^nlSl^n^4 to Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 

The Prince op Arraqon, f po^tia. Leonardo, servant to Bassauio. 

Antonio, a merchant of Venice. Balthasar, | servants to Portia. 

Bassanio, lus fnend, suitor like- Stephano, f°'='^"* 

wise to Portia. 

Salanio, "I Portia, a rich heiress. 

Sai.arino, I friends to Antonio Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 

Gratiano, f and Bassanio. Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 

Salerio, J Magnificoes of Venice, OflScers of 

Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 

Shylock, a rich Jew. Servants to Portia, and other 

Tubal, his friend. Attendants. 

Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat 
of Portia, on the Continent. 

Act I. 

Scene I. Venice. A street. 

Enter Antonio, Salarin© and Salanio. 

Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad : 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it^found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want- wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

Solar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
There, where your argosies with portly sail. 
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 10 

Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
Do overpeer the petty traflBckers, 
That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

Solan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 



% MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act i. 

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 

Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind, 

Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads ; 

And every object that might make me fear 20 

Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 

Would make me sad. 

Solar. My wind cooling my broth 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats, 
Q And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 

-^ Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs 

^ To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
*^ And see the holy edifice of stone, 30 

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks. 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream. 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks. 
And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought 
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought ^ 

That such a thing bechanced would make me sad ? 
But tell not me ; I know, Antonio , 

Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 ( f 

Ant. Believe me, no : I thank any fortune for it, > jr 

My ventures are not in one bcirtom trusted, ' /L^ 

Nor to one place ; nor is my, v^"h!ole estate ^ 

Upon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 

Solar. Why, then, you are in love. 

Ant. Fie, fie ! 

Solar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad. 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy ^ 

For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, ' 

Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 50 
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper. 
And other of such vinegar aspect 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile. 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
Gratiano and Lorenzo, Fare ye well : 
We leave you now with better company. 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 3 

Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on. you 
And you embrace the occasion to depart. 

Solar. Good morrow, my good lords. 

Bass. Good signiors, both, when shall we laugh ? say, when ? 
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 

ScUar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 

[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 

Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 
We two will leave you : but at dinner-time, 70 

I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 

Bass. I will not fail you. 

Ora. You look not well, Siguier Antonio ; 
You have too much respect upon the world : 
They lose it that do buy it with much care : 
Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano j 
A stage where every man must play a part. 
And mine a sad one. 

Qra. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 80 

And let my liver rather heat with wine 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within. 
Sit lilce his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks — 
There are a sort of men whose visages 
Do cream and mantle Jil^e a standing pond. 
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 

With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit. 
As who should say ' ' I am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark 1 *' 
O my Antonio, I do know of these 
That therefore only are reputed wise 
For saying nothing, when, I am very sure. 
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears 
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 
I'll tell thee more of this another time : 100 

But fish not, with this melancholy bait. 
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile ; 
I'll end my exhortation after dinner^. 



4 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act i. 

Lot. Well, we will leave you then, till dinner-time : 
I must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 

Ora. Well, keep me company but two years more. 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 

Gra. Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable 
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. 

[Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 

Ant. Is that any thing now ? -_^ 

Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains 
of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all 
day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are 
not worth the search. 

Ant. Well, tell me now what lady is the same 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 120 

That you to-day promised to tell me of ? 

Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate, ' 

By something showing a more swelling port 

Than my faint means would grant continuance : ^ 

Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
From such a noble rate : but my chief care 

Is to come fairly off from the great debts \ 

Wherein my time something too prodigal I 

Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 130 ^ ^ ^ 

I owe the most, in money and in love, ~" 

And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburden all my plots and purposes 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
And if it stand, as yourself still do. 
Within the eye of honour, be assured, 
My purse, my person, my extremest means. 
Lie all unlocked to your occasions. 

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 140 
I shot his fellow of the self -same flight 
The self -same way with more advised watch. 
To find the other forth, and by adventuring both 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof. 
Because what follows is pure innocence. 
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth. 
That which I owe is lost ; but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self way 
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt. 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both 150 



SCENE II.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 5 

Or bring your latter hazard back again 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 

Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do 
That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak. 160 

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
And she is fair and, fairer than that word. 
Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages : 
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued 
To Catci's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth. 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 170 

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand. 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate ! 

Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ; 
Neither have I money nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ; 
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 180 

That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
Where money is, and I no question make 
To have it of my trust or for my sake. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of 
this great world. 

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were 
in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and yet, 
for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much 
as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness 
therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity comes 
sooner by white hairs, but compet(?acy lives longer. 10 



6 MERCHANT OP VENICE. [act I. 

Por. Good sentences and well pronounced. 

Ner. Tliej would be better, if well followed. 

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
to do, cliapels liad been cliurches and poor men's cottages 
princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
instructions : I can easier teach twenty what were good to 
^be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own 
teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a 
hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree : such a hare is madness 
the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the crip- 
ple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me 
a husband. O me, the word "choose!" I may neither 
choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the 
will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead 
father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one 
nor refuse none ? 29 

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men at 
their death liave good inspirations . therefore the lottery, 
that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver 
and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, 
will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who 
shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your af- 
fection towards any of these princely suitors that are al- 
ready come ? 

Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou namest 
them, I will describe them ; and, according to my descrip- 
tion, level at my affection. 

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but 
talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to 
his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself, I am 
much afeard my lady his mother played false with a smith. 

Ner. Then there is the County Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say "If 
you will not have me, choose : " he hears merry tales and 
smiles not : I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher 
when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in 
his youth. I had rather be married to a death's-head with 
a bone in his mouth than to either of these. Grod defend 
me from these two ! 

Ner. How say you by the French lord. Monsieur Le Bon ? 

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a 
man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker : but, he ! 
why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better 
bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine ; he is every 
man in no man ; if a throstle sing, lie falls straight a caper 
ing : he will fence with his own shadow : if I should marry 



SCENE II.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 7 

hhn , I should marry twenty husbands. If he would de 
spise me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, 
I shall never requite him. 70 

Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 
baron of England ? 

Por. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands 
not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, French, nor 
Italian, and you will come into the court and swear that I 
have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
man's picture, but, alas, who can converse with a dumb- 
show ? How oddly he is suited I I think he bought his 
doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
Germany and his behaviour every where. 

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour ? 

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he 
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and swore he 
would pay him again when he was able : I think the French- 
man became his surety and sealed under for another, 

Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxo- 
ny's nephew ? 91 

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and 
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk : when he is 
best, he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, 
he is little better than a beast : in the worst fall that ever 
fell, I hope I shalll make shift to go without him. 

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right 
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if 
you should refuse to accept him. 

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a 
deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket, for if 
the devil be within and that temptation without, I know he 
will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be 
married to a sponge. 

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
lords : they have acquainted me with their determinations ; 
which is, indeed, to return to their home and to trouble 
you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some 
other sort than your father's imposition depending on' the 
caskets. 

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste 
as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's 
will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, 
for there is not one among them but I dote on his very ab- 
sence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure. 

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, 
a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither inqom- 
pany of the Martjuis of Nontf err^t ? 



8 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act i. 

Por, Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, he was so 
called. 

Ifer. True, madam : he, of all the men that ever my 
foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy 
of thy praise. 

Miter a Serving-man. 

How now ! what news ? 

Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take 
their leave : and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, 
the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the priuce his 
master will be here to-night. 139 

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a 
heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad 
of his approach : if he have the condition of a sai nt and 
the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me 
than wive me. 

Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 

Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks 
at the door. [Mceunt. 

Scene III. Venice. A pvMic place. 

Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 

Shy. Three thousand ducats ; well. 

Ba^s. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shy. For three months ; well. 

Ba^s. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 
bound. 

Shy. Antonio shall become bound ; well. 

Bass. May you stead me ? will you pleasure me ? shall I 
know your answer ? 

Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months and An- 
tonio bound. 10 

Bass. Tour answer to that. 

STiy. Antonio is a good man. 

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? 

Shy. Oh, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he is a 
good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. 
Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound 
to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; 1 understand, moreover, 
upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for 
England, and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. 
But ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land- 
rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean 
pirates, and then there is the peril of waters, winds and 



SCENE III.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. » 

rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three 
thousand ducats ; I think I may take his bond. 

Bass. Be assured you may. 

Shy. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be assured, 
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? 

Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will 
buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, 
and so following, but I will not eat with you, drink with 
you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto ? Who 
is he comes here ? 40 

Enter Antonio. 

Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 

Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks I 
I hate him for he is a Christian, 
But more for that in low simplicity 
He lends out money gratis and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails. 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 50 

On me, my bargains and my well- won thrift, 
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe 
If I forgive him ! 

Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? 

Shy. I am debating of my present store. 
And, by the near guess of my memory, 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 
Do you desire t [To Ant.] Rest you fair, good signior ; 60 
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 
How much ye w^ould ? 

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And for three months. 

Shy. I had forgot ; three months ; you told me so. 
Well then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear you ; 
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 70 

Upon advantage. 



10 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act I. 

Ant. I do never use it. 

Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep — 
This Jacob from our lioly Abram was, 
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third — 

Ant. And what of him ? did he take interest ? 

Shy. No, not take interest, not, as you would say. 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromised 
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied 
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank. 
In the end of autumn turned to the rams. 
And, when the work of generation was 
Between these woolly breeders in the act, 
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands 
And, in the doing of the deed of kind. 
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
Who then conceiving did in eaning time 
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 90 

And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for ; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 

Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
But note me, signicr. 

Ant. Mark you this, Bassaaio, 

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul producing holy witness 100 

Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 

Shy. Three thousand ducats ; 'tis a good round sum. 
Three months from twelve ; then, let me see ; the rate — - 

A?it. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ? 

Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my moneys and my usances : 

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, 110 

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
You call me misbeliever, cut- throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say 



SCENE III.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. H 

" Shylock, we would have moneys :" you say so ; 

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard 

And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 

Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 120 

What should I say to you ? Should I not say 

" Hath a dog money ? is it possible 

A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 

Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 

With bated breath and whispering humbleness. 

Say this ; 

" Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 

You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 

You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies 

I'll lend you thus much moneys " ? 130 

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again. 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
A breed for barren metal of his friend ? 
But lend it rather to thine enemy. 
Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 
Exact the penalty. 

Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! 

I would be friends with you and have your love, 
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
Supply your present wants and take no doit 141 

Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me : 
This is kind I offer. 

Bass. This were kindness. 

Shy, This kindness will I show. 

Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport. 
If you repay me not on such a day. 
In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
Express' d in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 150 

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Ant. Content, i' faith : I'll seal to such a bond 
And say there is much kindr.ess in the Jew. 

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 

Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
Within these two months, that's a month befdfe 
This bond ©xpirei^i t do expect retlird 160 

Of thrice i\if(e6 tiniesi tli^ Value bi this Ijoiid! 

Mh^t hih'ei Atifftm, wllftt these ChriitiftttH ftP^, 



13 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act ii. 

Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 

The thoughts of others ! Pray you, tell me this ; 

If he should break his day, what should I gain 

By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 

A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 

Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 

As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. 

To buy his favour, I extend this friendship . 

If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 170 

And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 

Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 

Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
Give him direction for this merry bond. 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight. 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 
I will be with you. 

Ant. Hie thee, gentle JeAv. [Exit Shylock. 

The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 

Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

A7it. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
My ships come home a month before the day, [Bxeunt. 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. Belmont. A room in Portia's liouse. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and 
Ids train; Portia, Nerissa, and otJiers attending. 

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born. 
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles. 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
Hath f ear'd the valiant : by my love, I swear 
The best regarded virgins of our clime 10 

Have loved it too : I would not change this hue. 
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 

Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice dLrectioli of a maiden's eyes ; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bare me the ri^ht of voluntary choosing 5 
But ii iiij? father had \\M §canted me 



SCENE ii.J MERCHANT OF VENICE. 13 

And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by that means I told you. 
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20 

As any comer I have look'd on yet 
For my affection. 

Mor. Even for that I thank you : 

Therefore, I pray you lead me to the caskets 
To try my fortune. By this scimitar 
That slew the Sophy and a persian Prince 
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look. 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the «arth. 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear. 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 

To win thee, lady. But, alas the while ! 
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
Miss that which one un worthier may attain. 
And die with grieving. 

For. You must take your chance. 

And either not attempt to choose at all 
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong 40 

Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marriage : therefore be advised. 

Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. 

Por. First, forward to the temple : after dinner 
Your hazard shall be made. 

Mor. Good fortune then ! 

To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 

\Cornd,8, and exeunt. 

Scene II. Venice. A street. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Laufi. Certainly my conscience will serve m© to run from 
this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and 
tempts me, saying to me "Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good 
Launcelot, " or "good Gobbo," or "good Launcelot Gobbo, 
use your legs, take the start, run away." My conscience 
says ' ' No ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest 
Gobbo," or, as aforesaid, "honest Launcelot Gobbo; do 
not run ; scorn running with thy heels." Well, the most 
courageous fiend bids me pack: "Vial "says the fiend; 
"ftwayl" sayg the fiend; "for the heaveas, toxkm np a 



14 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act ii. 

brave mind," says tlie fiend, "and run." Well, my con- 
science, hanging about tlie neck of my heart, says very 
wisely to me " My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest 
man's son," or rather an honest woman's son ; for, indeed, 
my father did something smack, something grow to, he 
had a kind of taste ; well, my conscience says " Launcelot, 
budge not." "Budge," says the fiend. "Budge not," 
says my conscience. "Conscience," say I, "you counsel 
well ;" " Fiend," say I, " you counsel well : " to be ruled 
by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, 
who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and, to run 
away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, 
saving your reverence, is tlie devil himself. Certainly Jhe 
Jew is the very devil incarnal ; and, in my conscience, my 
conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to 
counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the 
more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; my heels are at 
your command ; I will run. 

Enter Old Gobbo, mth a haeket 

Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the 
way to master Jew's ? 

Laun. [Aside] heavens, this is my true-begotten father ! 
who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows 
me not : I will try confusions with him. 

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the 
way to master Jew's ? 41 

Laun. Turn upon your right hand at the next turning, 
but, at the next turning of all, on your left ; marry, at the 
very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indi- 
rectly to the Jew's house. 

Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can 
you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, 
dwell with him or no ? 

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Adde] 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of 
young Master Launcelot ? 

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his father, 
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God 
be thanked, well to live. 

Laun. Well, let his father be what a' Avill, we talk of 
young Master Launcelot. 

Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. 

Laun. But I pray you, ergo^ old man, ergo^ I beseech 
you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 

Gob, Of Launcelot, au't please your mastership. 

Launt ErgOi Master Launcelot, Talk not of Mastei* 



sci5NE II.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 15 

Lauucelot, father ; for the young gentleman, according to 
Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three 
and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased, or, as 
you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven, 

Odb. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very stafE of 
my age, my very prop. 70 

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or 
a prop ? Do yon know me, father ? 

Ooh. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman : 
but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive 
or dead ? 

Laun. Do you not know me, father ? 

Ooh. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 

Lawn. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail 
of the knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his own 
child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son : 
give me your blessing : truth will come to light ; murder 
cannot be hid long ; a man's son may, but at the length 
truth will out. 

Ooh. Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are not 
Launcelot, my boy. 

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but 
give me your blessing :- I am Launcelot, your boy that was, 
your son that is, your child that shall be. 91 

Ooh. I cannot think you are my son. 

Laun. I know not what I shall think of that : but I am 
Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your 
wife is my mother. 

Ooh. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, if thou 
be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord 
worshipped might he be ! what a beard hast thou got ! thou 
hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse 
has on his tail. 101 

Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
backward : I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I 
have of my face when I last saw him. 

Ooh. Lord, how art thou changed I How dost thou and 
thy master agree ? I have brought him a present. How 
'gree you now ? 

Laun. Well, well : but, for mine own part, as I have 
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run 
some ground. My master's a very Jew : give him a pres- 
ent ! give him a halter : I am famished in his service ; you 
may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I 
am glad you are come : give me your present to one Master 
Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries : if I serve 
not him, I will run as far as God lias any ground. rare 



16 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act li. 

fortune ! here comes tlie man : to him, father ; for I am a 
Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 120 

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. 

Bass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted that sup- 
per be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these 
letters delivered ; put the liveries to making, and desire 
CJratiano to come anon to my lodging. \^Exit a servant. 

Laun. To him, father. 

Gob. God bless your worship ! 

Bass. Gramercy ! wouldst thou ought with me ? 

Odb. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man ; that 
would, sir, as my father shall specify — 

Odb. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to 
serve, — 

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, 
and have a desire, as my father shall specify — 

Oob. His master and he, saving your worship's rever- 
ence, are scarce cater-cousins — 

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having 
done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I hope, 
an old man, shall frutify unto you— 

Oob. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow 
upon your worship, and my suit is — 

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as 
your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and, 
though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father. 

Bass. One speak for both. What would you ? 

Laun. Serve you, sir. 151 

Oob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit : 
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
master Shylock and you, sir : you have the grace of God, 
sir, and lie hath enough. 

Bass. Thou speak' st it well. Go, father, with thy son. 
Take leave of thy old master and inquire 
My lodging out. Give him a livery 
More guarded than his fellows' : see it done. 

Laun. Father, in, I cannot get a service, no ; I have 
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have 
f a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book, I 
shall have good fortune. Go to, here's a simple line of life : 



SCENE II.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 17 

here's a small trifle of wives : alas, fifteen wives is nothing i 
eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for 
one man : and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in 
peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are 
simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good 
wench for this gear. Father, come ; I'll take my leave of 
the Jew in the twinkling of an eye, 

[Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gohho. 

Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
These things being bought and orderly bestow' d, 
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 1 80 

My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go, 

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gra. Where is your master ? 

Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks, [Ej^U. 

Ora. Signior Bassanio 1 

Bass. Gratiano 1 

Ora. I have a suit to you, 

Bass. You have obtain'd it. 

Ora. You must not deny me : I must go with you to 
Belmont. 

Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano ; 
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice ; 190 

Parts that become thee happily enough 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour 
I be misconstrued in the place I go to 
And lose my hopes. 

O^^a. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 

If I do not put on a sober habit, 

Talk with respect and swear but now and then, 200 

Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say, " amen," 
Use all the observance of civility. 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing, 

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me 
By what we do to-night. 

Bass. No, that were pity : 

I would entreat you rather to put mi 210 

SHAK. I. — 16 



18 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [ACT n. 

Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 
I have some business. 

Ora. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. The same. A room in Shylock's house. 

Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 

Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
Our house is hell, and thou a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee : 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
And so farewell : I would not have my father 
See me in talk with thee. 9 

Zaun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful 
pagan, most sweet Jew ! if a Christian did not play the 
knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu : these 
foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit : adieu. 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Laumelot. 

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be ashamed to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, 

If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20 

Become a Christian aud thy loving wife, [Exit. 

Scene IV. The same. A street. 

Enter Graciano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. 

Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper- time. 
Disguise us at my lodging and return. 
All in an hour. 

Gra. We have not made good preparation. 

Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch -bearers. 

Solan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd. 
And better in my mind not undertook. 

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock : We have two hours 
To furnish us. 

Enter Launcelot with a letter. 

Friend Launcelot, what's the news? 
Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 
jseem to signify. H 



SCENE v.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 19 

Lor. I know tlie hand ; in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
And whiter than the paper it writ on 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

Gra. Love-news, in faith. 

Laun. By your leave, sir. 

Lor. Whither goest thou ? 

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup 
to-night with my new master the Christian, 

Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica 20 

I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 

Go, gentlemen, {Exit Launcelot. 

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Solar. A.J, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 

Solan. Ajid so will I. 

Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 

Solar. 'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Solar, and Solan. 

Ora. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 

Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 3(»- 
How I shall take her from her father's house, 
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with, 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven. 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot. 
Unless she do it under this excuse. 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt 

Scene V. The some. Before Shylock's liouse. 

Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge. 
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandise. 
As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica ! — 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 

Laun. Wliy, Jessica ! 

- Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call, 

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could 
do nothing without bidding. 

Mnter Jessica. 
Jeii Call you ? what is your will? 10 



30 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act ii; 

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go ? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian, Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. I am right loth to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest. 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go : my young master doth 
expect your reproach. 30 

Shy. So do I his. 

Laun. An they have conspired together, I will not say 
you shall see a masque ; but if you do, then it was not for 
nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last 
at six o'clock f the morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
Wednesday was four years, in the afternoon. 

Shy. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, Jessica : 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30 

Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces. 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, 1 swear, 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. 

Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at win- 
dow, for all this ; 41 
There will come a Christian by. 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit. 

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 

Jes. His words were "Farewell mistress ;" nothing else. 

Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him, and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 50 

His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in : 
Perhaps I will return immediately : 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
Fast bind, fast find ; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [MdU 

Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I hiRve ft father, you a daug:hter, loat, [ExU» 



SCENE VI.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 31 

Scene VI. The same. 

Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 

Ova. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
Desired us to make stand. 

Salar. His hour is almost past. 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons flj 
To seal lore's bonds new-made, than they are wont 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 

Ova. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 10 

His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younker or a prodigal 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
How like the prodigal doth she return. 
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails. 
Lean, rent and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 

Solar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter. 20 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you 'Vvait : 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho ! who's within ? 

Enter Jessica, above, ^?^ hoy's clothes. 

Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty 
xllbeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jes. Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, 
For who love I so much ? And now who knows 30 

But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 

Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. 
For I am much ashamed of my exchange : 
But love is blind and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves comniit ; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would blUsH 
To ie« nw thus t¥ansfo¥m«4 %o a bor. 



32 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act ii. 

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torcli-bearer. 40 

Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. 
Why, 'tis an oflEice of discovery, love ; 
And I should be obscured. 

Lor. So are you, sweet. 

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway, 
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. 

\_Exit above. 50 

Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. 

Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her. 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, 
And true she is, as she hath proved herself. 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jessica, below. - 

What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away ! 
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 

\^Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 

Enter Antonio. 

Ant. Who's there? 60 

Gra. Signior Antonio ! 

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano ! where are all the rest ? 
'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you. 
No masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 
Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 

Gra. I am glad on't : I desire no more delight 
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 

Scene VII. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, idth the Prince of 
Morocco, and their trains. 

For. Go draw aside the curtains and discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. 
Now make your choice^ 

MoTi The first, of gold, wlio tliis inscription bears, 
" Who elioosetb hie shall gain what many men desire \* 
fh^ Segojidj feiifsi'i wBkh this pifomise eftffifs, 



SCENE yir.] MERCHANT OP VENICE. 23 

"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves ;" 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 10 

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

Mor. Some god direct my judgement ! Let me see ; 
I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
What says this leaden casket ? 

" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath," 
Must give : for what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ? 
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 20 

I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." 
As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation. 
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady : 
And yet to be afeard of my deserving 

Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 

As much as I deserve ! Why, that's the lady : 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
In graces and in qualities of breeding ; 
But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray 'd no further, but chose here ? 
Let's see once more this saying graved in gold ; 
" Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
Why, that's the lady ; all the world desires her ; 
From the four corners of the earth they come. 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 40 

The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
For princes to come view fair Portia : 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come. 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation 
To think so base a thought : it were too gross 50 

To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
Or shall I think in silver she's immured, 
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 



U MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act It 

O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 

A coin that bears the figure of an angel 

Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon ; 

But here an angel in a golden bed 

Lies all within. Deliver me the key : 

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may I 60 

Par. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there, 
Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket. 

Mar. O hell ! what have we here ? 

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll ! I'll read the writing. 
[Meads^ All that glisters is not gold ; 

Often have you heard that told : 
Many a man his life hath sold 
But my outside to behold : 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold, 70 

Young in limbs, in judgement old. 
Your answer had not been inscroll'd : 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
Cold, indeed ; and labour lost : 
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost I 
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 

[£Jxit with Ids train. Flourish of cornets. 
Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 

Scene VIII. Venice. A street. 

Enter Salabino and Salanio. 

Solar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail : 
With, him is Gratiano gone along ; 
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 

Solan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke, 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 

Solar. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
But there the duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 

Besides, Antonio certified the duke 10, 

They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 

Solan. I never heard a passion so confused, 
So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
• * My daughter 1 my ducats ! O my daughter ! 



SCENE IX.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. " 25 

Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats ! 

Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! 

A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 

Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter ! 

And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, 20 

Stolen by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ; 

She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats." 

l3alar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 

Sedan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 

Salar. Marry, well remember'd, 

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
The'French and English, there miscarried 
A vessel of our country richly fraught : 30 

I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 

Solan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return : he answer'd, "Do not so ; 
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 40 

And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
f Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
Be merry, and employ your chief est thoughts 
To courtship and such fair ostonts of love 
As shall conveniently become you there : " 
And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 
He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 

Salaii. I think he only loves the world for him. 50 

I pray thee, let us go and find him out 
And quicken his embraced heaviness 
With some delight or other. 

Salar. Do we so. {^Exeunt. 

Scene IX. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Nerissa loith a Servitor. 

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee ; draw the curtain straight: 
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
And comes to his election presently. 



26 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act ii. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Por- 
tia, and their trains. 

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince 
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd. 
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized : 
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord. 
You must be gone from hence immediately. 

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things : 
First, never to unfold to any one 10 

Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage : 
Lastly, 

If I do fail in fortune of my choice. 
Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self, 

Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 
To my heart's hope ! Gold ; silver ; and base lead. 30 

" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see : 
"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
What many men desire ! that " many " may be meant 
By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet. 
Builds in the weather on the outward wafi, 
Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 

I will not choose what many men desire, 
Because I will not jump with common spirits 
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 
" Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves :" 
And well said too ; for who shall go about 
To cozen fortune and be honourable 
Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 
To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 

O, that estates, degrees and offices 
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour 
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! 
How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
How many be commanded that command ! 
How much low peasantry would then be glean' d 
From the true seed of honour ! and how much honour 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times 



SCENE IX.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 27 

To be new varnisli'd ! Well but to my choice : 

•' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." 50 

I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 

And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 

[He opens the silver casket. 

Poi\ Too long a pause for that which you find there. 

Ar. What's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot. 
Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 
How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
Ifow much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! 
" Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves." 
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better? 60 

Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices 
And of opposed natures. 

Ar. What is here ? 

[Iteads\ The fire seven times tried this : 

Seven times tried that judgement is. 

That did never choose amiss. 

Some there be that shadows kiss ; 

Such have but a shadow's bliss : 

There be fools alive, I wis, 

Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 

Take what wife you will to bed, 70 

I will ever be your head : 

So be gone : you are sped. 

Still more fool I shall appear 

By the time I linger here : 

With one fool's head I came to woo. 

But I go away with two. 

Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath. 

Patiently to bear my wroth. 

[Exeunt Arragon and train. 
Por. Thus hath the caudle singed the moth. 
O, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose. 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 81 

Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy. 
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerrissa. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. WTiere is my lady ? 
Por. Here : what would my lord ? 

Servi. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 



28 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act iii. 

To signify the approaching of his lord : 

From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. 

To wit, besides commends and courteous breath. 

Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 91 

So likely an ambassador of love : 

A day in April never came so sweet, 

To show how costly summer was at hand. 

As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee. 
Thou spend' st such high-day wit in praising him. 
Come, come, Nerrissa ; for I long to see 
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. 100 

Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be I [Exeunt. 



ACT III. 
Scene, I. Yenice. A street. 

Enter Salanio and Salarino. 

Solan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 

Solar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio 
hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas ; the 
Goodwins, I think they call the place ; a very dangerous 
flat and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie 
buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman 
of her word. 

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever 
knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she wept 
for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without 
any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, 

that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, that I had 

a title good enough to keep his name company ! — 

Solar. Come, the full stop. 

Solan. Ha ! what sayest thou ? Why, the end is, he hath 
lost a ship. 20 

Solar. I would it might prove the end of his losses. 

Solan. Let me say "amen" betimes, lest the devil cross 
my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew, 

Enter Shylock. 
How now, Shylock 1 what news among the merchants ? 

Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my 
daughter's flight. 

Salar. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the tailor 
that made the wings she flew withal. 30 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 29 

Solan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was 
fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave 
the dam. 

Shy. She is damned for it. 

Solar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 

Solan. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at these years ? 

Slip. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 40 

Salar. There is more difEerence between thy flesh and' 
hers than between jet and ivory ; more between your bloods 
than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, 
do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? 

Shy. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, a 
prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a 
beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart ; let 
him look to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; let him 
look to his bond : he was wont to lend money for a Christian 
courtesy ; let him look to his bond. 

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take 
his flesh : what's that good for ? , 

Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else, it 
will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered 
me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at 
my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, 
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what's his 
reason ? I am a Jew, Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not 
a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, pas- 
sions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same 
weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same 
means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, 
as a Christian is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you 
tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? 
and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you 
in the rest, we will resemble yoii in that. If a Jew wrong 
a Christian, what is his humility ? Revenge. If a Christisn 
wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian 
example ? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will 
execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 
Enter a Servant. 

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and 
desires to speak with you both. 

Solar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
Enter Tubal. 

Solan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot 
be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 

\^Exeunt Salan,, Salar. y and Servant. 



30 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act in. 

Shy. How now. Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? hast 
thou found my daughter ? 

Tvi). I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 
find her. 

Shy. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone, 
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse never 
fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till now : two 
thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, precious jewels. 
I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels 
in her ear ! would she were hearsed at my foot, and the 
ducats in her coffin ! No news of them ? Why, so : and I 
know not what's spent in the search : why, thou loss upon 
loss ! the thdef gone with so much, and so much to find the 
thief ; and no satisfaction, no revenge : nor no ill luck stirr- 
ing but what lights on my shoulders ; no sighs but of my 
breathing ; no tears but of my shedding. 1(H. 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Anionio, as I heard 
in Genoa, — 

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 

Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 

Shy. I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true ? 

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
wreck. 110 

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal ; good news, good news ! 
ha, ha! where? in Genoa? 

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in oaie 
night fourscore ducats. 

Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me : I shall never see my 
gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats ! 

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my com- 
pany to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 120 

Shy. I am very glad of it : I'll plague him ; I'll torture 
him : I am glad of it. 

Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your 
daughter for a monkey. 

SJiy. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : it was 
my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor : I 
would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. 

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee 
me an ofl^er ; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will 
have the heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of 
Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go. Tubal, 
and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal ; at our 
synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt. 



SCENE n.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 31 

Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerrissa and 

Attendants. 

Por. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company : therefore forbear a while. 
There's something tells me, but it is not love, 
I would not loose you ; and you know yourself. 
Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
V And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
How to choose right, but I am then forsv/orn ; 11 

So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin. 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes. 
They have o'erlook'd me and divided me ; 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours. 
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, 
f And so all yours. O, these naughty times 
A Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 21 

I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time. 
To eke it and to draw it out in length. 
To stay you from election. 

Bass. Let me choose ; 

For as I am, I live upon the rack. 

Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess 
What treason there is mingled with your love. 

Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust. 
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 
There may as well be amity and life 30 

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
'■ Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
\ Where men enforced do speak anything. 

Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 

Por. Well then, confess and live. 

Bass. " Confess " and " love " 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 
O happy torment, when my torturer 
Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

Por. Away, then 1 I am lock'd in one of them : 40 

If you do love me, you will find me out, 



32 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act in. 

Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 

Let music sound while he doth make his choice ; 

Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end. 

Fading in music : that the comparison 

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 

And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 

And what is music then ? Then music is 

Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 

To a new- crowned monarch : such it is 50 

As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 

That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 

And summon him to marriage. Now he goes. 

With no less presence, but with much more love. 

Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 

To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 

With bleared visages, come forth to view 

The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules ! 60 

Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay 

I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 

Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. 

Song. 
Tell me where is fancy bred. 
Or in the heart or in the head ? 
How begot, how nourished ? 

Reply, reply. 
It is engender'd in the eyes. 
With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's knell : 70 

I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
All. Ding, dong, bell. 

Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves ; 
The world is still deceived with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion. 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 80 

There is no vice so simple but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 



SCENE n.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 33 

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, 

Who, inward search'd, have livers white as millc ; 

And these assume but valour's excrement 

To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty. 

And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 

Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 

Making them lightest that wear most of it : 

So are those crisped snaky golden locks 

Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 

Upon supposed fairness, often known 

To be the dowry of a second head. 

The skull that l3red them in the sepulchre. 

Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 

To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 

fVeiling an Indian beauty ; in a word. 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on 100 

To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold. 

Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 

Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 

'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead. 

Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught. 

Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence ; 

And here choose I : joy be the consequence ! 

Par. [Adde\ How all the other passions fleet to air. 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair. 
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy ! 110 

love. 

Be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 

In measure rein thy joy ; scant this excess. 

1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less. 
For fear I surfeit. 

Ba^s. What find I here ? 

[Opening the leaden casket 
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips. 
Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 120 
The painter plays the spider and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
In underprizing it, so far this shadoAv 



34 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act iii. 

Doth limp beWnd tlie substance. Here's the scroll, 130 
The continent and summar}'' of my fortune. 

[Reads] You that choose not by the view, 

Chance as fair and choose as true ! 

Since this fortune falls to you. 

Be content and seek no new. 

If you be well pleased with this 

And hold your fortune for your bliss, 

Turn you where your lady is 

And claim her with a loving kiss. 
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; ; 140 

I come by note, to give and to receive. 
Like one of two contending in a prize, 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
Hearing applause and universal shout. 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
As doubtful whether what I see be true. 
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 

For. You see me. Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 150 

Such as I am : though for myself alone 
I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
More rich ; 

That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
Exceed account ; but the full sum of me 
f Is sum of nothing, which, to term in gross, 160 

Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised ; 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn ; then happier in this. 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 170 

Queen o'er myself ; and even now, but now. 
This house, these servants and this same myself 
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away. 
Let it presage the ruin of your love 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 



SCENE il] merchant of VENICE. 85 

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words. 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
And there is such confusion in my powers. 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 180 

By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd and not express'd. Bat when this ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
O, then be bold to-say Bassanio's dead 1 

Ner. My lord and lady, it is now oUr time. 
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper. 
To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady ! 

Qra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
And when your honours mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 200 

You loved, I loved for intermission. 
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the casket there. 
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
For wooing here until I sweat again. 
And swearing till my very roof was dry 
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
I got a promise of this fair one here 
To have her love, provided that your fortune 
Achieved her mistress. 

Pot. Is this true, Nerissa ? 210 

Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 

Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 

Ora. Yes, faith, my lord. 

Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage. 

Gra. We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand 
ducats. 

Ner. What, and stake down ? 

Gra. No ; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake 
down. 220 

But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ? 
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? 



36 MERCHANT OF VENICE. t^cT m. 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger 
from Venice. 

Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome liither ; 
If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave 
I bid my very friends and countrymen, 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

Por. So do I, my lord : 

They are entirely welcome. 

Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, 
My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 230 

But meeting with Salerio by the way. 
He did intreat me, past all saying nay. 
To come with him along. 

Saler. I did, my lord ; 

And I have reason for it. Signor Antonio 
Commends him to you. \Owes Bassanio a letter. 

Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 

SaZer. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in, mind ; 
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 

Or a. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 340 
Your hand, Salerio : what's the news from Venice ? 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
I know he will be glad of our success ; 
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 

Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. 

Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper. 
That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 
Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
Could turn so much the constitution 

Of any constant man. What, worse and worse \ 250 

With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself. 
And I must freely have the half of anything 
That this same paper brings you. 

Bass. O sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady. 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady. 
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
My state was nothing, I should then have told you 



SCENE II.} MERCHANT OF VENICE. 5*7 

That I was worse tlian notliing ; for, indeed, 

I have engaged myself to a dear friend, 

Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 

The paper as the body of my friend. 

And every word in it a gaping wound, 

Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio ? 

Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit ? 270 

From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, 

From Lisbon, Barbary and India? 

And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 

Of merchant-marring rocks ? 

Solar. Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
He plies the duke at morning and at night. 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state. 280 

If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
The duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond. 

Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 290 

If law, authority and power deny not. 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

Por. . Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 

Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirft 
In doing courtesies, and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honour more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 

Por. What, no more ? 300 

Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
Double six thousand, and then treble that. 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife. 
And then away to Venice to your friend ; 



88 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act m. 

For never shall you lie by Portia's side 

With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 

To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 

When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 310 

My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 

Will live as maids and widows. Come, away ! 

For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 

Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 

Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 

But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

Bass. \^Reads^^ Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis^ 
carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, 
my bond to the Jow is forfeit ; and since in paying it, it is 
impossible I should live, all debts are cleared between you 
and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstand- 
ing, use your pleasure : if your love do not persuade you to 
come, let not my letter. 

For. love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 

Bass. Since 1 have your good leave to go away, 
I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. Venice. A street. 

Enter Shylock, Salakino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 

Shy. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy ; 
This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Arit. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou liadst a cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder. 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
To come abroad with him at his request. 10 

Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
I'll have no speaking : I will have my bond. [Exit. 

Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
That ever kept with men. 

Ant. Let him alone : 



SCENE IV.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 39 

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers, 20 

He seeks my life ; his reason well I know : 

I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 

Many that have at times made moan to me ; 

Therefore he hates me. 

Solar. I am sure the duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Ant. The duke cannot deny the course of law : 
B'or the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
Will much impeach the justice of his state ; 
Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 

Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
These griefs and losses have so bated me, 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! \^Ex6unt. 

Scene IV. Belmont A room in Portia's home. 
Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Bal- 

THASAR. 

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 

You have a noble and a true conceit 

Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 

In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 

But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 

How true a gentleman you send relief. 

How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 

I know you would be prouder of the work 

Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Por. I never did repent for doing good, 10 

Nor shall not now : for in companions 
'\ That do converse and waste the time together. 

Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 

There must be needs a like proportion 
'; Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit ; 
j Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
\ Being the bosom lover of my lord. 

Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 

How little is the cost I have bestow'd 

In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 

From out the state of hellish misery ! 

This comes too near the praising of myself ; 

Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 

Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 



40 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act in. 

The husbandry and manage of my house 

Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 

I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 

To live in prayer and contemplation. 

Only attended by Nerissa here, 

Until her husband and my lord's return : 3P 

There is a monastery two miles off ; 

And there will we abide. I do desire you 

Not to deny this imposition ; 

The which my love and some necessity 

Now lays upon you. 

Lor. Madam, with all my heart ; 

I shall obey you in all fair commands. ^. 

Por. My people do already know my mind. 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40 

Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 

Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content, 

Por. I thank you for your wish, and am Avell pleased 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 

[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
Now, Balthasar, 

As I have ever found thee honest-true. 
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter. 
And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Ballario ; 50 

And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee. 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words. 
But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 

Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit. 

Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of : we'll see our husbands 
Before they think of us. 

Ner. Shall they see us ? 

Por. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 60 

That they shall think we are accomplished 
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager. 
When we are both accoutred like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
And wear my dagger with the braver grace. 
And speak between the change of man and boy 
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 



BcENEv.] MERCHANT OF VENICE: 41 

Like a fine bragging youtli, and tell quaint lies, 

How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 

I could not do withal ; then I'll repent, 

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 

And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell. 

That men shall swear I have discontinued school 

Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 

Which I will practise. 

Ner. Why, shall we turn to men ? 

For. Fie, what a question's that. 
If thou wevt near a lewd interpreter ! 80 

But oome, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park gate ; and therefore haste away, 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. * \Exeunt. 

Scene V, The same. A garden. 

Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 

Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father 
are to be laid upon the children : therefore, I promise ye, I 
fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I spealc 
my agitation of the matter : therefore be of good cheer, for 
truly I think you are damned. There is but one hope in it 
than can do you any good ; and that is but a kind of bastard 
hope neither. 

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee ? 10 

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got 
you rK)t, that you are not the Jew's daughter. 

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so the 
sins of my mother should be visited upon me. 

Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and 
mother : thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into 
Charybdis, your mother : well, you are gone both ways. 20 

Jes. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath made me 
a Christian. 

Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we were Christians 
enow before ; e'en as many as could well live, one by an 
other. This making of Christians will raise the price of 
hogs : if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly 
have a rasher on the coals for money. 

Enter Lorenzo. 
Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : here 
he comes. 30 



42 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [ACTltt. 

Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if 
you thus get my wife into corners. 

Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo : Launcelot and 
I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me in 
heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter : and he says, you 
are no good member of the commonwealth, for in convert- 
ing Jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork. 39 

Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than 
you can the getting up of the negro's belly : the Moor is 
with child by you, Launcelot. 

Laun. It is much that the Moor should be more than 
reason : but if she be less than an honest woman, she is 
indeed more than I took her for. 

Lor. How every fool can play upon the word ! I think 
the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and dis- 
course grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go 
in, sirrah ; -bid them prepare for dinner. 

Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 

Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit -snapper are you ! then bid 
them prepare dinner. 

Laun. That is done too, sir ; only ''cover" is the word. 

Lor. Will you cover then, sir ? 

Laun. Not so, sii, neither ; I know my duty. 

Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! Wilt thou 
show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant ? I pray 
thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning : go to 
thy fellows ; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, 
and we will come in to dinner. 

Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for the 
meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to dinner, 
sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. 

[Exit. 

Lor. dear discretion, how his words are suited 1 70 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words ; and I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion. 
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 

Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 80 

He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
f And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
In reason he should never come to heaven. 
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 43 

And on the wager lay two earthly women. 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world 
Hath not her fellow. 

Lor. Even such a husband 

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 

Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 90 

Lor. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 

Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 

Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, mong other things 
I shall digest it. 

Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. \Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. Venice. A court of justice. 

Etiter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 

Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 

Ant. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard 

Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 10 

My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit. 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into court. 

Seder. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 

Enter Shylock. 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too. 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought 
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange 20 

Thau is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant s flesh, 



44 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [ACTiv. 

Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 

But, toucli'd with human gentleness and love. 

Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 

Glancing an eye of pity on his losses. 

That have of late so huddled on his back, 

Enow to press a royal merchant down 

And pluck commiseration of his state 30 

From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint. 

From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 

To offices of tender courtesy. 

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew, 

Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I put-pose ; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 40 

A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
Three thousand ducats : I'll not answer that . 
But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? 
What if my house be troubled with a rat 
And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 
To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ; 
And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose. 
Cannot contain their urine : for affection, 50 

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer : 
As there is no firm reason to be render' d. 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
fWhy he, a bollen bag-pipe, — ^but of force 
Must yield to such inevitable shame 
As to ofEend, himself being offended ; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 

More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 60 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 

Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answers. 

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

8hy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 

Bass. Every oJSeilc6 is not a hate at first* 

. What, wdu''d&t thou have a serpent stiny thee 
twice ? 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 45 

Anf. I pray you, tliink you question with the Jew : 70 
You may as well go stand upon the beach 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question Avitli the wolf 
Why he liath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise. 
When they are f retten with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do any thing most hard. 
As seek to soften that — than which what's harder ? — 
His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, 80 

Make no more offers, use no farther means, 
But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgement and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ? 

Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong ? 
You have among you many a purchased slave, 90 

Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in al3ject and in slavish parts. 
Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours and let their palates 
Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer 
" The slaves are ours :" so do I answer you : 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him. 
Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. 100 

If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgement : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court. 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor. 
Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
Come here to-day, 

Saler. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor. 
New come from Padua, 
• Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 110 

Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 



46 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act iv. 

Drops earliest to tlie ground ; and so let me : 
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nerissa, dressed like u lawyer's clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 

Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. 

[Presenting a letter. 130 

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 

Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 

Ora. Not on thy sole, but on thy soal, harsh Jew, 
Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can. 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 

8hy. No, none that thou has wit enough to make. 

Ora. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog ! 
And for thy life let justice be accused. 

Thou almost makest me waver in my faith 130 

To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet. 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are woolfish, bloody, starved and ravenftus. 

Shy. Till thou cant rail the seal from ofE my bond. 
Thou but oifend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 140 

Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law„ 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend* 
A young and learned doctor to our court. 
Where is he ? 

Ner. He attendeth here hard by. 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. '' 

Clerk. [Reads'] Your grace shall understand that at the 
receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in the instant 
that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me 
a young doctor of Rome ; his name is Balthasar. I ac- 
quainted him with the cause in controversy between the 
Jew and Antonio the merchant : we turned o'er many books 
together : he is furnished with my opinion ; which, bet- 
tered with his own learning, the greatness whereof I can- 
not enough commend, comes with him, at my importunity^ 



SCENE!.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 47 

to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseecli you, 
let his lack of years be no impediment to let liim lack a 
reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young a body 
witb so old a head. I leave him to your gracious accept- 
ance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation. 
Duke. You hear the learned Bellario, what he writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laics. 
Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario ? 

For. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 171 

That holds this present question in the court ? 

Par. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew 1 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

Por. Is your name Shylock ? 

gliy^ Shylock is my name. 

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
You stand within his danger, do you not ? 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

Por. Do you confess the bond ? 

Ant. I do. 

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that. 

Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd. 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 190 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this. 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 200 

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 



180 



48 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act.iv. 

To mitigate fhe justice of thj plea ; 

Wliicli if tlioii follow, this strict court of Venice 

Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, ' 
The penalty and the forfeit of my bond. 

Por. Is he not able to discharge the money? 

Bass. Yes, here I tender ?t for him in the court ; 
Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 210 

I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er. 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 
If this will not suffice, it must appear 
That malace bears down truth. And I beseech you, 
/ Wrest once the ]xw to your authority : 
I To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
I And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
^ Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 

Can alter a decree established : 
■ 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 320 

And many an error by the same example 
Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 

Shy. A Daniel come to judgement ! yea, a Daniel I 
O wise young- judge, how I do honour thee ! 

Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Shy. Hero 'tic, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

Por. 'Jhylock, there's thrice thy money offer' d thee. 

Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven ; 
Shall I i.iy perjury upon my soul? 
No, not for Venice. 

Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 230 

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful : 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law, your exposition 
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
Proceed to judgement : by my soul I swear 240 

There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 

Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgement. 

Por. Why then, thus it is : 

You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

Shy. O noble judge ! excellent young man ! 

Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 49 

Hatli full relation to tlie penalty, 

Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. 'Tis very true : wise and upright judge ! 250 

How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 

Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 

Shy. Ay, his breast : 

So says the bond : doth it not, noble judge ? 
" Nearest his heart : " those are the very words. 

Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
The flesh? 

Shy. I have them ready. 

Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death 

Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 

Por. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 260 

'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 

Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say? 

Ant. But little : I am arm'd and well prepared. 
Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom : it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his 'wealth. 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 270 

An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honourable wife : 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 280 

I'll pay it presently with all my heart. 

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 290 

I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew, 

SHAK. I. — 17 



50 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act IV. 

Ner. 'Tis well you offer it beliind her back ; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daugh- 
ter ; 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas 

Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! [Aside. 
We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence, 

Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 300 

Shy. Most rightful judge ! 

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ! Come, prepare ! 

Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
The words expressly are " a pound of flesh : " 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 310 

Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
Unto the state of Venice. 

Ora. O upright judge ! Mark, Jew : O learned judge ! 

Shy. Is that the law ? 

Por. Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 

Ora. learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned judge ! 

Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice 
And let the Christian go. 

Bass. Here is the money. 

Por. Soft! 330 

The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste : 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Ora. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more 
But just a pound of flesh : if thou cut'st more 
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
Or the division of the twentieth part 

Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 330 

But in the estimation of a hair. 
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Ora. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew I 
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip, 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture. 

Shy, Giv^ me my principal, and let me go. 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 61 

Bass. I have it ready for tliee ; here it is. 

Por. He hath refused it in the open court : 
He shall have merely justice and his bond. 

Gra. A Daniel, still say 1, a second Daniel ! 340 

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

8hy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Por. Thou slialt Imve nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it ! 
I'll stay no longer question. 

Por. Tarry, Jew : 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
If it be proved against an alien 

That by direct or indirect attempts 350 

He seek the life of any citizen. 
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
Shall seize one-half his goods ; the other half 
Comes to the privy coifer of the state : 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy. 
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ; 
For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 
That indirectly and directly too 

Thou hast contrived against the very life 360 

Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke. 

Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state. 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; ^ 

Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 

PvJce. That thou slialt see the difference of our spirits, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 370 

The other half comes to the general state. 
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 

Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 

Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
You take my house when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; yoii take my life 
When you do take the means whereby I live. 

Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 

Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 

Ant. So please my lord the duke and all the court 880 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
I am content ; so he will let me have 



53 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act iv. 

The other half in use, to render it, 

Upou his death, unto the gentleman 

That lately stole his daughter : 

Two things provided more, that, for this favour, 

He presently become a Christian ; 

The other, that he do record a gift. 

Here in the court, of all he diespossess'd, 

Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter, 390 

Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

Por. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 

Shy. I am content. 

Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
I am not well : send the deed after me. 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Ora. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers : 
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more. 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 400 

\Exit Shylock. 

Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with m,e to dinner. 

Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon : 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
And it is meet I presently set forth. 

DuJce. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

{^Exeunt Duke and Ms train. 

Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu thereof, 410 

Tliree thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 

Ant. And stand indebted, over and above. 
In love and service to you evermore. 

Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied 
And therein do account myself well paid : 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 420 

Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further : 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute. 
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 

Per, Yott ptem me far, and tl^erefor© I will yield, 



SCENE il] merchant of VENICE. 53 

\To AjU.] Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your 

sake ; 
\To Bass.] And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you : 
Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 430 

I will not shame myself to give you this. 

Poj'. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now methinks I have a mind to it. 

Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you. 
And find it out by proclamation : 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

Poi\ I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 440 

Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
And when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 

For. That 'sense serves many men to save their gifts. 
An if your wife be not a mad- woman. 
And know how well I have deserved the ring. 
She would not hold out enemy for ever. 
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with joxi ! 

[JExeunt Portia and JSferissa. 

Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring ; 
Let his deservings and my love withal 450 

Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 

Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst. 
Unto Antonio's house : away ! make haste. [Exit Gratiano. 
Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. The same. A street. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed 
And let him sign it : we'll away to-night 
And be a day before our husbands home : 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en *. 
My Lord Bassanio upoii more advice 
Hath sent y^ou hei'© this rleg, and doth entreat 



54 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act v. 

Your company at dinner. 

Por. That cannot be : 

His ring I do accept most thankfully : 

And so, I pray you, tell him : furthermore, 10 

I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house, 

Gra. That I will do. 

JSfer. Sir, I would speak with you. 

\ Aside to ror.'\ I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 

Por. \^Aside to Ner.'] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall 
have old swearing 
That they did give the rings away to men ; 
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 
[Aloud'] Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I will 
tarry. 

Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house ? 

[Exeunt. 

ACT V. 

Scene I. Belmont. Avienue to Pobtia's house. 

. Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 

Lor. The moon shines bright : in such a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
And they did make no noise, in such a night 
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that" night. 

Jes. In such a night 

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself 
And ran dismay'd away. 

Lor. In such a night 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 

Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jes. In such a night 

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old ^iEson. 

Lor. In such a night 

Did Jessica steal from th,e wealthy Jew 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont, 

Jes. In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 55 

And ne'er a true one. 

Lor. In such a night 20 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come ; 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter Stephano. 

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 

Steph. A friend. 

Lor. A friend ! what friend ? your name, I pray you, 
friend ? 

Step7i. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 30 

By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 

Lor. Who comes with her ? 

StepJi. None but a holy hennit and her maid. 
I pray you, is my master yet return'd? 

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard, from him. 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Latin. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, sola ! 

Lor. Who calls? 40 

Laun. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Loren- 
zo, sola, sola ! 

Lor. Leave hollaing, man : here. 

Laun. Sola ! where ? where ? 

Lor. Here. 

Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with 
his horn full of good news : my master will be here ere 
morning. [Evit. 

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. 
And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 50 

My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you. 
Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
And bring your music forth into the air. [Exit Stephano. 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
la thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; 



66 MERCHANT OF VeNICIJ. [act v. 

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 60 

But in his motion like an angel sings. 

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 

Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : 

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear 

And draw her home with music. [Music. 

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 70 

For do but note a wild and wanton herd. 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts. 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud. 
Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ; 80 
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage. 
But music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no music in himself, 
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night 
And his affections dark as Erebus : 
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 90 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 

Pm\ So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
A substitute shines brightly as. a king 
Until a king be by, and then his state^ 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music ! bark ! 

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day, 

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 



t 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 57 

When neither is attended, and I think 

The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 

When every goose is cackling, would be thought 

No better a musician than the wren. 

How many things by season season'd are 

To their right praise and true perfection ! 

Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion 

And would not be awaked. \^Mudc ceases. 

Lor. That is the voice, 110 

Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 

Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo. 
By the bad voice. 

Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' healths, 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
Are they returned ? 

Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; 

But there is come a messenger before. 
To signify their coming. 

Por. Go in, Nerissa ; 

Give order to my servants that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120 

Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. [J. tucket sounds. 

Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. 

Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
It looks a little paler : 'tis a day. 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers. 

Boss. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
If you would walk in absence of the sun. 

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 

And never be Bassanio so for me : 
But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 

Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Por. You should in all sense l)e much bound to him. 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 

Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
It must appear in other ways than words, 140 

Therefore. I scant this breathing courtesy . 

Gra. [To iVer.] By yonder moon I swear you do m© 
wrong i 



-f 



58 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act v. 

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk : 
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 

Por. A quarrel, ho, already ! what's the matter ? 

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me, whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, "Love me, and leave me not." 150 

Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
That you would wear it till your hour of death 
And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths. 
You should have been respective and have kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk ! no, God's my judge. 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it. 

Ora. He will, and if he live to be a man. 

Ifer. Aye, if a woman live to be a man, 160 

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring and made him swear 170 

Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gra. My Lord Bassiano gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed 180 

Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk. 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ; 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? 

Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
Hftth not the ring upon it ; it is gone, . 



SCENE!.. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 59 

Por. Even so void is your false lieart of truth. 
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 190 

Until I see the ring. 

Ner. Nor I in yours 

Till I again see mine. 

Bass. Sweet Portia, 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring 
And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 

Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
You would not then have parted with the ring. 
What man is there so much unreasonable. 
If you had pleased to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted- the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. 

Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me 
And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him 
And sufier'd him to go displeased away ; 
Even he that did uphold the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
I was enforced to send it after him ; 
I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
My honour would not let ingratitude 
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 

Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : 
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you ; 
I'll not deny him any thing I have, 
No, not my body nor my husband's bed : 
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it : 
Lie not a night from home ; watch me like Argus ; 230 

If you do not, if I be left alone. 
Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, 
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 



60 MERCHANT OF VENICE. [act V, 

Ner. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advised 
How you do leave me to mine own protection. 

Ora. Well, do you so : let not me take him, then ; 
For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. 

Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 

Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstand- 
ing. 

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 240 

And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
Wherein I see myself — 

Por. Mark you but that ! 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
In each eye, one ; swear by your double self, 
And there's an oath of credit. 

Bass. Nay, but hear me : 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring. 
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 

Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio ; 
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. 

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 260 

For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
In lieu of this last night did lie with me. 

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it ? 

Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed : 
Here is a letter ; read it at your, leisure ; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 270 

Shall witness I set forth as soon as you 
And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ; 
And I have better news in store for you 
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
There you shall find three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 



SCENE I.] MERCHANT OF VENICE. 61 

You shall not know by what strange accident 
I chanced on this letter. 

Ant. I am dumb. 

Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 280 

Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold ? 

_ZVer. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, 
Unless he live until he be a man. 

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow : 
Wlien I am absent, then lie with my wife. 

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 

Po7: How now, Lorenzo ! 

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

J^er. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. 290 

There do I give to you and Jessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 

Lo7\ Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Por. It is almost morning, 

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter'gatories. 
And we will answer all things faithfully. 

Gra. Let it be so : the first inter'gatory 300 

That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is. 
Whether till the next night she had rather stay, 
Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day : 
But were the day come, I should wish it dark, 
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. 
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing 
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring, [Exeunt. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

III 



014 105 143 P ^ 



PUBLISHERS' NOTICE. 



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